Where were we? I've forgotten. He was deciding whether to cut her throat or love her forever.Right. Yes. The usual choices.

Lose your temper and you lose the fight.

All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel.

There were a lot of gods. Gods always come in handy, they justify almost anything.

Better not to invent her in her absence. Better to wait until she's actually here. Then he can make her up as she goes along.

The young habitually mistake lust for love, they're infested with idealism of all kinds.

Time rises and rises, and when it reaches the level of your eyes you drown.

This is how the girl who couldn't speak and the man who couldn't see fell in love.

Those who live alone slide into the habit of vertical eating: why bother with the niceties when there's no one to share or censure? But laxity in one area may lead to derangement in all.

More and more I feel like a letter—deposited here, collected there. But a letter addressed to no one.

He was deciding whether to cut her throat or love her forever.

Don’t fight change

My mathematics is simple: one plus one = one.

Timing's mighty important. In cooking, in life, in love. If the timing goes wrong, you've got to start over. Do it right.

Having created the conditions that make markets possible, democracy must do all the things that markets undo or cannot do.

I want people to hear the presence of God in the music.

Zizi was young and often confused about how to live his life, �and when he made a choice he clung to it with fierce resolve, �as if to beat his uncertainty into submission.

It was always assumed that I would go to college.

I don't think I am beautiful. I can look good and I can look ugly.

Impossible desires are the height of unreason.

All field agents have some cowboy in them – even the ones from New York.